Belle Reve
by MegaDefinition
Summary: An unknown prisoner, with unknown abilities, walks into Belle Reve, the maximum security prison.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just a short of a dream I had the other night. Don't intend to expand upon it; just figured it'd fit here.**

**Also, should go without saying, but I don't own _Suicide Squad._**

* * *

The rooms are dark and the walls are cold. I'm shoved into a tiny little room with a bench, a light and no windows. The door slams behind me and locks.

"When you're done changing, bang three times on the door, then turn and face the wall with your hands behind your back!" the guard outside orders.

I nod quietly. He means I have to change into prison robes. I've told them several times that they won't last long, but apparently guards are too stupid to listen to me. I do as I'm told:

I slip off my jumpsuit and pull on the white tank top and shorts. Then I pick up the garish, bright orange prison jumpsuit and slip that over my skinny frame. I look at my hands and consider... do I wear my gloves or do they want my hands bare? Will they let me keep on the mask I'm wearing still?

I figure it's a risk worth taking and, soon as I zip up the prison suit, bang thrice on the door, turn and face the wall with my hands behind my back. The light flickers a few times, almost plunging me into blackness.

The door opens and then slams shut again. "Mask off and gloves off!" the guard orders.

I just turn and look at the door and then turn back to the wall. They'll just have to take me the way I am if they don't want me to lose control again. And I have lost control several times today because of things they've done towards me.

* * *

_I brace myself as a baton smashes into my back, then my thigh, then my head. My head and body stings with the blows. Something electric plunges into my throat, nearly causing me to pass out. But I still keep quiet. They're not making me talk. Then, as the baton comes towards my face again, I feel the handcuffs break behind me. And I lose control._

_I grab the baton and bash his knees. He falls to the ground. I bash his hands away from his face. Then I bash his face into a bloody pulp. The other guards quickly back away, blood splatter on their clothes and on mine._

_I've got control over them now._

* * *

Reluctantly (and probably with their better judgment) the guards come back in and cuff me. They've realized by now how dangerous I can be, so they might as well attempt to keep me happy.

We exit the room and start walking down a long corridor. I know exactly where we're going: the cells. They're all close together save for those of the metahumans, those dangerous beings that have power unlike anybody else I've ever met. I know their names.

Joker, the Clown Prince of Crime. Harley Quinn, his beloved queen. Deadshot, with an aim that nobody can beat or top, much as they want to try. Icicle, who can turn whatever he wants into ice. Lex Luthor, with a brain practically the size of Einstein. These are who I know myself. Their names are everywhere around my city.

As we round the corner the lights flicker again. I see cells on either side of me, and as we walk down through the hallway, the inmates in those cells look up and see me walking by with guards.

"Who's the newbie?" one of them shouts, curious.

"Not sure," the guard replies. "Hasn't even told us his name."

He's got a point there. I haven't spoken a word since my arrest. It's my right to remain silent, and I intend to use it.

We march down the hall a little further, and then we stop in front of an empty cell. I notice a heavily locked manhole next to it.

_Sweet. I'm right next to Waylon Jones_.

"You see that right there?" the guard points with his gun towards the manhole. When he sees me nod slowly, he goes on, "That's Croc's cell. Killer Croc, as everybody knows him. Goes right into an old sewer. You open that to try to escape, and he'll eat you."

_As if I was going to try to escape through the sewer._

The guards shove me into my cell and slam the door shut. "Now you stay there, and you don't cause any trouble," the bigger guard warns me. "You do something stupid, and you're Croc's next meal."

A low, terrible growl escapes from my throat. _I'd kill Waylon Jones first, you punks_.

The guards back off, nervous at that.

I sit there on the bed and reflect on how I got here.

* * *

_I'd been walking down a street late at night, thinking about life, thinking about how else to hide the monster that I was, when I was hit from behind. I fell to the ground and glanced back to see someone who looked just like me coming directly towards me, a whole bunch of gear on his waist, and some sort of bizarre-looking boomerang in his hand. I get to my feet, only to get slugged directly in the jaw._

_"About time I found you," the costumed person grunted. I could see his face clearly now, see the outlines of bats all over him. I figured as much. I figured as much that it'd be _him_ who came after me._

_"So where's the money from the robbery, clone?"_

_He got the wrong person. I was literally just walking down a street. I'd never committed robbery._

_"Don't be silent, for pete's sake, talk!"_

_He went to grab my jaw, and this time I lost all control. I started wailing on him, punching him, kicking him. My mask slid back from around my jaw and I started biting him as well._

_Then I felt something electric jam into my torso and I hit the ground hard, but I didn't react otherwise._

_Next thing I knew, I was surrounded by policemen with heavy powered rifles, being ordered to put my hands up. I overheard them talking about where I was going for injuring "the Bat". Belle Reve._

_A maximum security prison. For defending myself._

_Shove the f**k off._

* * *

I don't say anything. I hear the inmates trying to get my attention, but I'm not listening to them. I'm in my own little world, conversing with the beast I'm hiding. Yeah, no, I'm not losing control now. Not unless they make me.

Then, unexpectedly, a door clangs open. I hear lots of inmates mutter "Oh no" and "Uh oh" and look up to see them slowly backing up towards the wall. One of them looks at me and says, "You might want to hide, homie. These guys aren't friendly."

I wonder who "these guys" are.

I find out seconds later.

A couple of nasty-looking guards come walking down the hall. They stop in front of my cell and decide to unlock the door. As I hear the cell door clink back, I notice they are all holding batons and not rifles, not electric guns or whatever they're called. _Batons._

"So this is our new guy, is it?" one of the guards says.

"Yeah," another says. "Bloke hasn't even told us his name."

"Let's see if we can beat it out of him."

_Firstly, I'm a her, not a he. I don't even know why you're all thinking I'm a he. Shove off._

As they walk into the cell and close the door behind them, I slowly stand up.

"Okay, newbie, here's the deal," the same guard says. "You got two choices. You can tell us your name, or we can beat it out of you. Which one's it gonna be?"

I don't answer. Already I can feel the beast within me rising. He's angry as angry can get, and he's ready for a fight.

_I think I'll let him out._

"Okay, newbie. Looks like we're gonna have to beat your name out of you." The guards all raise their batons and advance.

My mask slips back to unveil my mouth, barred with dangerously sharp teeth. And I lose control.

The cell's covered in blood by the time I'm done


	2. Chapter 2

**Got to thinking about my little excursion into DC and said to myself, "Eh, sod it. Let's do some more." If y'all want me to continue, then y'all know what you need to do - give this a review or a favorite or whatever it is and I'll keep 'er goin. Now enough talk. Leggo.  
**

* * *

I listen to the blood drip-drip-dripping from the walls and ceiling. My sheets are soaked in it, and the guards' corpses are all lying on the floor, also covered in blood. Their guts lie around the room and their batons stick out from under limbs and in stomachs - and in the case of the guard who started it, his baton is jammed right up his ribcage, keeping his lungs from inflating and practically crushing his heart. Good riddance, asshat.

I sit back down on the bed, ignoring the blackish-red stains. My mask forms back over my jaw, and quietly I sit and wait for someone to show up.

A few seconds later, another round of guards arrives. They take one look into the cell and let out yelps of fright. "Holy shit!" "What the f***?!" "No way!"

Yeah, I had a feeling they'd react like that. They have no idea what I'm capable of when I want to let rip.

The cell door clanks open - and then I hear something else. The sound of the sewer grate being thrown back.

Two guards lunge in and seize my arms. I don't resist; there's no point, really. These guards have rifles, and they're all aimed at me. I do something, and there's no way in hell I'll still be in one piece when they're done shooting me.

"Did you do all this?!" one guard yells, jamming his rifle right into my throat.

I don't answer. It's my right to remain silent, and goddammit I'm going to use it. I just look at him, my eyes glowing in the dim light.

"Look, you! Either talk or you'll be Killer Croc's next meal!" the guard barks.

A low, terrible growl escapes my throat.

Wrong answer, apparently. The guard whacks his rifle butt into my throat, nearly making me pass out, and the other two drag me over to the cell of Waylon Jones, aka Killer Croc, and throw me in.

I land in the water with a splash and look back up at them to see the grate closing. "We'll be back in ten minutes for whatever's left of you!" the guard practically screams as the grate shuts. "Hey Croc! Din-dins!"

It's pitch black in this sewer, but that's no issue for me. I see just as well in the dark as in light. I sit up, regain my strength, and then stand. I feel my mask starting to shift again, but I don't let it move all the way.

Then I hear it: grunts and snorts, and heavy footsteps while I'm at it. I see a scaly face and a big, burly, muscle-bound body coming towards me. It's Waylon Jones, better known as the one and only Killer Croc. And it sounds like he's hungry. I know the guards feed him dead pigs and goats; I've seen the chewed-up carcasses littering the river on my nightly walks. If he thinks I'm an easy meal, he's got another thing coming.

I listen to his crocodile-esque growls and bellows as he walks closer. I see his glittering eyes and his sharp, razor-like teeth that rip and tear into flesh like a candy bar. He stops a few feet away from me and begins sniffing, like I'm his next meal. Yeah, no. You're not getting me that easily, Waylon.

Now I let my own mask slip back and unveil my own jaws. I let out my own terrible growls and, one foot back and both hands in scratching positions at my side, brace myself for a good ol' fashioned brawl.

Croc lunges and tries to rip off my arm. I dodge his blows and easily lunge and throw him to the ground. Then I latch on: my jaws close around his neck and bite down _hard_. Croc lets out a scream and tries to force me off, but I don't let go so easily.

Finally he manages to get one of his hands on my arm and practically throws me from his chest. I flip around and growl some more. I've tasted croc blood, and - although disgusting - if I have to eat, then it'll do in a pinch.

But then he does something I don't expect - as I stare at him, growling and waiting for his next move, he _retreats_. He runs like hell back into the dark sewer, and I just watch him leave. Huh. If Killer Croc, the cannibalistic human, was scared by lil ol' me, then I don't really know _what_ to think. Am I really that scary?

_B*tch you ripped five guards apart. 'Course you're that scary._

I shrug and let my growls die out, let my mask form back over my face. I sit down on the sewer's edge and just wait, the water lapping at my boots. I remember what the guard said, and just decide to wait patiently.

I hear footsteps again and notice Killer Croc coming towards me. I start to get to my feet, but he stops moving and backs off again. I sense he's not interested in a fight, so I sit back down and just stare at the sewer wall.

Croc comes closer - stops about a few yards away from me - and just sits there as well, nursing his wound. My teeth haven't penetrated his skin too deep, so the wound's superficial and will heal easily, but it's clear he's in a lot of pain.

He looks at me and actually begins to speak (didn't think he was able to do _that_. Huh. The more you learn (cue music here).). "What are you in for?"

I don't answer. I just stare at the sewer wall.

Croc repeats, "Seriously. What are you in for?"

I still don't answer. I'm exercising that right to remain silent. I'd rather stay silent than incriminate myself of anything.

I can tell Croc is getting more afraid, because he starts to back up again (I can hear the water sloshing) and demands nervously, "What the hell do you want, man?!"

_F***'s sake. I'm a girl, goddammit._

I don't acknowledge him at first. Then I hear him start pounding on the sewer wall. I stand up and look at him, and let fly another low growl.

Croc stops immediately and goes - into the _fetal position_?

_What the hell? Did he shit himself or something?  
_

_He's afraid of me. He's genuinely afraid of me. Well well well..._

"Just don't kill me," he pleads.

_Not my intention, pal. Never was. Just leave me alone._

I sit back down and play the waiting game.

A few minutes go by, and eventually the sewer grate unlocks and comes sliding back. A light shines down and I slowly look up at the guards standing there, and then I stand and just stare at them.

"What the shit - where the hell's Croc at?" one guard remarks.

"Croc, where you at?!" another shouts.

"Just get this guy out of here!" That's Croc speaking again. He's actually genuinely terrified of me, and I can't really say that I blame him. If I'd nearly had my windpipe ripped out, I'd be afraid too.

Uneasy, the guards slowly lower themselves into the sewer cell and look at Croc. It's when they see the injury I've inflicted upon him that they realize I'm not a force to be reckoned with.

One of the guards swallows and lowers his rifle. "Look, man," he says, "we don't want trouble. But you keep bringing it -"

_Oh hell with it._

"You're the one who keeps inviting it," I snarl at him angrily.

The tones of my voice cause everyone, including Croc, to jump backwards.

The guard starts towards me again, only taking two steps. "Just - just cooperate with us, will you? We don't - we don't need any more of - any more injuries," he says.

I hear the fear in his voice, and I know he's cowardly. I've got control of the situation once again.

The guard then says, "So - we're - we're going to take you back up to your cell. We've cleaned it all up, freshened it while we were at it. Just - just no more bloodshed, okay? We can do that?" He's got a promising little smile on his face.

Now I decide to play a little game with them. Recalling some lyrics from a very good song I like, I slowly start singing, "Can you hear how the children weep?"

The guards freeze. Now they're _really_ scared.

I choose some different lyrics. "Chills of fear like a sawblade cutting deep?"

"Okay, that's enough!" the guard begs. "Just - just please cooperate."

_Okay fine, have it your way_.

They take me back up to my cell. True to the guard's word, it's clean and fresh, with new bedsheets and no blood on the walls. They let me in and lock the door behind me. As they leave I hear one guard remark, "We need to make a note in that guy's file - do _not_ piss him off under _any_ conditions! He will mess you up!"

"We also need to get Croc to a medic!"

I just sit there on the bed and grin beneath my mask. Those fools got absolutely _destroyed_.

Now... this "Bat" character... where the hell do I find him?


	3. Chapter 3

**Welp, here we go again. Same story as last time - y'all want more, y'all know what you need to do. Now let's get to it.**

* * *

As I sit there and ponder this... "Bat" character that everyone seems to fear... I hear the other prisoners start standing up and walking over to their cell doors. They're all looking at me, and for the love of God I'd rather be left alone. Sheesh. Do one little thing in this prison and you end up with admirers.

One of the prisoners gets my attention with a few rounds of "Psst! Psst!" The second I look over at him he asks, "What'd you do to Croc?"

I snort.

_Nothing he can't handle. Bout time he got a taste of his own medicine._

The prisoner winces. "We could hear the fight up here," he says. "Lot of the guards like to play games with us, threatening to throw us to him as a meal if we don't cooperate. They actually have thrown a couple of guys to him a few times. I guess you're the first who's tangoed with him and he lost."

"Who's the Bat?" I interrupt.

"The Bat? You talkin' about Batman?" the prisoner says.

_So that's his name... Batman... I've got a mark for him now, that son of a b*tch._

"Yeah, I'm talking about him," I spit back. "His sorry ass got me locked up."

"Well, I don' know much about him, but I can tell you what I know."

_That works. Now spill._

"Talk, then."

The prisoner swallows. "So he only operates at night, and he's called the Batman because his outfit is literally designed to make him look like a bat. He's got gadgets galore, from grappling guns to batarangs to -"

"Bat-a-_what_s?"

"Batarangs. They're bat-shaped boomerangs. Pain in the ass if I'm honest. A lot of us have been knocked out by those things, and they _hurt_." The prisoner snorts. "He's also got lots of bat-designed vehicles, from bat-cars to bat-bikes to bat-boats and bat-planes... He's also got a secret lair filled with gadgetry. Hundreds of us want to get our hands on both him and on his gadgets, but nobody's been able to find his lair. If anybody _does_ manage to find it without him noticing and steal some shit, then man..." He hangs his head. "He'd be the official MAN. He'd be our hero, for sure."

"I see..." I return to staring at the walls - the crisp, clean walls. So now I have a new objective: find the Batman's lair, steal some of his stuff, and punish him with it. He'll regret giving me over to the guards if I manage to pull that off.

First however I've got to get out of this damned prison.

I sit there against the bed and think to myself. From what I remember, Belle Reve is notorious for having a zero-escape record. Belle Reve is also notorious for having a so-called "Suicide Squad". I remember hearing about them while I was on the other side. They were these guys who'd done some really bad sh*t. Deadshot, I know was one of them, and Harley Quinn was too, and that also includes Mr. Scaredy-Croc. Then there were some other guys who I don't know, someone who lit himself on fire or something, someone who uses boomerangs... who else? Oh yeah, that thief who tried getting out but ended up dead. Seems like my only option is to join the Suicide Squad... well, either that or pull a Joker. And I'm not so sure I want to pull a Joker. He might have broken out of Belle Reve, but I'm not that psychotic. I'm just trying to stay alive.

"Lights out!"

The lights in the cell go out. I lie back on the bed and allow my thoughts to drag me to sleep.

_It's been one hell of a day._

* * *

I don't know how long I've been in this damn place, but I know one thing: word of my assault on Waylon Jones has gotten around quick - in this cell block, at least. A lot of the guards are treating me with respect, and plenty of the inmates just leave me alone when we're out in the yard. Smart move on their part, honestly, but I am getting quite bored of this... sanitarium. Doesn't look like I'm going anywhere yet.

So apparently a few prisoners get the yard to themselves a few minutes before we do. I guess that's to combat all the shit they've seen, but I'll be damned if I manage to get out there. I don't know. I'm rambling again. I'm anxious to breathe the sweet air outside; that's what prison does to you, I suppose.

My cell door opens, and the guards kindly escort me to the yard. They undo my cuffs and lock the door behind me. "You got an hour, mate. Don't squander it."

_Be grateful I didn't eat your face off this morning, you_ _prick. You tried switching out my food. Thought I wouldn't notice, did you?  
_

_Yeah, no. Next time you pull that sh*t I'm gonna eat your face off._

I soon realize the sounds I'm hearing are mostly the wind and the waves. Belle Reve is surrounded by water, so if I want to get out of here, I'm obviously going to have to scale the walls and swim for it, or hijack a helicopter, or something along those lines. But I don't want to squander my opportunities now. I've got to plan and wait to make my move. Make it too soon and I'm going to get shot. Make it too late and I'm permanently trapped here.

I simply decide to sit down and stare at the world. No point in looking for trouble when it's bound to find me first. I just think about everything, and feel my jaws hinge and unhinge underneath my mask. Yeah, I know the beast is restless. I am too. I hate it here, and I hate that I'm here for no reason. I want out.

"Oi!"

Someone shoves me backwards and I look up to see none other than Floyd Lawton, also known as Deadshot, standing over me. "What you trying to do, picking on my boy Croc like that?" he demands.

I get to my feet and snarl, "Are you looking for trouble, Lawton?"

As I'm speaking I hear the beastly side of me let out a couple of little intimidation growls. Deadshot winces and quickly backs off. "Nah, man. Just trying to figure out what's going on here."

"Then don't annoy me with stupid questions. Ask the a**holes who threw me to him - if any of them are still alive to do so, of course." I sit back down and try to think.

_There has to be a way out of this damn place without getting myself killed. There has to be a_ _way._

"What you in for, anyway?" Deadshot's voice brings me back to reality.

"The Bat threw me in here," I respond nonchalantly. "Only he had no reason to. Soon as I get out I'm going to find him and tear his face off."

Deadshot winces for a second time. "Sheesh, man, don't you think that's a little too far?"

"If I knew why he chucked me in here, I might be more forgiving," I reply. "But after he nearly killed me, yeah, no, his head is mine when I find him." I let a low growl out when I'm done with that sentence. I mean business when I say that threat.

Deadshot sits down across from me. "You went up against Killer Croc and came away unscathed. You might have a chance for the squad."

"The squad?" I feign ignorance. I know what he's talking about, but this might be the ticket I'm looking for.

"Suicide Squad. At least, that's what we're referred to." He sounds matter-of-fact. "I'm on it myself, actually. We get some time off our sentences if we cooperate, so I'm all for it. So far only lost ten years. I'm hoping to gain more."

"What's it do?"

_You already know. Just feed him questions and he'll give you exactly what you need._

"We get sent out for these do-or-die missions, actually," Deadshot goes on. "First mission we handled was when someone else got loose and tried to destroy humanity. Managed to pull off a victory for us, and got our sentences reduced." He taps his chin. "Based off of what you did to Croc, you might stand a chance of replacing Slipknot."

_Slipknot? Wait - that's that thief guy._

I look at him curiously. "Why, what happened to him?"

"Captain Boomerang told him our bombs were for show. Slipknot tried escaping and his detonated."

_Wait a f***ing second - BOMBS?!_

I jump to my feet. "What the hell do you mean, bombs?!"

Deadshot gestures to his neck. "We're implanted with these little devices that, if we defect or try to escape, will kill us," he explains. "But I'm guessing they'd have a hard time implanting one on you."

"Damn right about that. I'll tear their faces off first."

Now he gets to his feet. "The rest of the inmates are about to come out. I'll see if I can put in a good word for you with boss lady. But you'll have to prove it to her that you want on the squad. Deal?" He sticks out his hand.

I shake it. "Deal."

_This is my way out. If I can get on this squad, I have a big chance of finding the Batman and tearing off his face. Perfect. Now it's time to play the game._


	4. Chapter 4

**Been a hot second! Mostly just busy. Read the review and, well, two things: 1) I honestly don't know about the whole metahuman thing (whether the Suicide Squad's members are or are not); I'm just going off what I know, which in and of itself isn't much. 2) Crocodile meat actually tastes pretty good (cooked, of course; I'm not about to eat raw meat, ha-ha).  
**

**Okay, enough of that. Let's go.**

* * *

I don't know _how _long I've been behind bars now. I've stopped counting the days - or is it weeks? Hell is it _months _I've been locked up here now? I don't know, as I've said I've stopped counting. I do know one thing: I'm dead sick and tired of being here. No wonder some people go made in these places. But I can't do anything about it. If the Batman guy wants me in here, then that's where I have to stay... for now at least. I'm still planning on how to get out of this sanitarium. I hate it here, but until I get out, I'm stuck, so I gotta make the best of it.

I've had my yard privileges extended from one hour to two, which is nice, but it does get boring after a while. Still, it makes it easy to look over at the other prisoners - including Mr. Lawton over there. He said he'd put in a good word for me with "boss lady" - whoever she is.

_She runs the Suicide Squad. Why else is she called boss lady?_

_Meh. Who cares?_

I mostly sit over by the fence and stare down at the waves. Calm, peaceful, cold, like me before I let loose. I mostly just sit and plan my escape. Sit and plan, sit and plan, sit and plan... but while I'm dreaming I'd like a pony. I doubt I'm getting out of here, honestly.

I feel my jaws shift beneath the mask. Word has clearly gotten around about me beating up Waylon Jones, so at the moment nobody's willing to mess with me. If anything, one screwup towards me and they hastily apologize and fix their error. I guess being a monster has its upsides.

_B*tch they're scared you'll eat their faces off._

Well, there's that too. Apparently word has also gotten around that I eat faces for breakfast. Yeah, I'll do that - but only if someone decides to f*** up something of mine. Then I'm going for the face.

It's one morning in the yard, and I'm sitting over in my usual corner hungrier than usual. The guards burnt my breakfast this morning, and normally I can take going hungry, but they burnt my dinner too, so I'm pretty much ready to go apeshit on their asses. I'm thinking about a meal when I hear a right ol' ruckus behind me. I turn around and notice a couple other prisoners backing up towards me. They notice me and one moves aside so I can see what's going on. And immediately one thing is clear to me: I sure as HELL don't like it.

It's a big, muscle-bound prisoner covered in tats and looking like he just came out of juvie or something dumb like that, I don't know. He looks cocky as sh*t, more like he wants to pick a fight. What is he, some sort of Neo-Nazi bullshit? I don't know. But I do know one thing: if he's smart, he won't choose to tango with me. A lot of prisoners have found that out the hard way.

_Doubt he's heard of me taking down Killer Croc. Probably will come after me._

_Yeah, forgot about that part. Oh well._

"Who the hell's that guy?" I ask one of the more worried prisoners.

"New guy in my block," the prisoner replies, shaking. "Been bragging about how he'll beat up anybody for a living because they can't tell him what to do."

"I'm going to guess he hasn't heard about me taking on Waylon?"

"He has but he doesn't believe it. Thinks you're just a pansy and Croc took it easy on you."

I feel my jaws shifting beneath my mask. So that's how he wants to play his game? Okay. Punk better leave me alone then.

"Apparently he's beaten up every single member of the Suicide Squad, and now he's going after Lawton."

_What? After Deadshot?_

_NOT ON MY F***ING WATCH._

I slowly move over to stand next to Floyd. He's nervous, sweating bullets even. He says softly, "That dude's about the same size as Croc, minus the scales and the appetite for flesh."

"Eh. If he starts cruising for a beatdown, I'll happily deliver," I murmur. "Someone said he beat up every single member of that squad you mentioned."

"That's no rumor. He actually did - well, the guys at least," Floyd admits. "He won't touch girls, but I'm not so sure about that... Harley Quinn could put up a good fight against him. She's not here though; Joker busted her out again. No clue where she's at."

I snort.

_Pathetic. PA-THE-TIC. I've seen a lot worse than him. Won't touch girls? B*tch please._

It's hear Muscle-Boy spots Floyd and starts goading him. "Not so sharp now without your precious tools of the trade, are you?!" he roars, thumping his chest like the macho man he is. "Can't even fight decently without a gun, can ya, boy?! Who's your pretty little punching bag next to ya?!"

Muscle-Boy's just screwed up: he's decided to target me. Guess it's a good thing the guards burnt my breakfast this morning, because I realize right now that god_damn _am I hungry.

"You might wanna be careful around this guy," Floyd says loudly. "This dude beat up Killer Croc. He could beat you up too."

There's a loud gasp around the yard. I bristle, angry. My jaws start to chew in anticipation of the upcoming fight, because I _know_ it's coming. This guy doesn't believe I straight-up attacked Killer Croc and escaped alive. He won't survive a tango with me.

"Ha, ha, ha, yeah right sure!" Muscle-Boy laughs defiantly. "Try it, sucker! You can't take on me! I'll crush your tiny little head and then crush his tiny pea-brain!"

I let a low growl escape my throat. My jaws unhinge and my mask prepares to slide back in anticipation of teeth sinking into flesh. I take a defensive stance, feeling the claws come sliding out of their sockets in my fingers.

_Well, he brought it on himself. IT'S FEEDING TIME!_

Muscle-Boy laughs and then charges right at me, fist raised back to slug me in the face. I vault upwards and front-flip so my heel is above his head, but instead of pushing down into it, I push off of it and jump behind him. He tries to grab me, but I easily swing around his arm, sink my claws into it and throw him to the ground with a good ol' fashioned front-throw. The cement breaks off in chunks and flies into the air, that's the amount of force Muscle-Boy's hit the ground with. I've also got a piece of flesh in my claws, and I chew that up and swallow it. It tastes to me like what an ice cream soda might to another human, and it has the same result:

I want more.

He lies there for a moment, arm bleeding like a stuck piggy, but quickly jumps up and attempts to grab me. I slash at his hands and go for the killing blow: I throw him on his stomach and jump on his back, my teeth sinking into his throat. I growl menacingly. I could kill him if I wanted to... well, I am hungry after all.

"Looks like you just got your ass beat!" Lawton cries out.

"Not - for - long!" Muscle-Boy yells, and he tries arching his back to throw me off.

Big mistake. I've had enough. I fall off on purpose, then kick him in the gonads and force him onto his back. He grabs me again - and I go for the kill shot:

My jaws clamp around his throat, bite down hard, and tear.

Blood spurts all over the yard as I rip his throat out. I stand up and step back, just staring at the bloody corpse. I turn to the side and spit out his windpipe, and go to _town_ on his face. I rip and tear through flesh and crack bone until his face is nothing more than a bloody piece of pulp.

It's a disgusting mess when I'm done eating. Fragments of bone, flesh and blood litter the area around his face. His nose, mouth and eyes are pretty much gone. I swallow the last morsel and set my jaws back together with a lazy yawn. I look up, blood dripping down my chin.

Some of his buddies are coming towards me now. I let out another growl and declare loudly to the entire yard, "Anybody else want to tango and lose? Well? Because _this_" - I point to Muscle-Boy's corpse - "is your fate if you keep this shit up!"

It's here that someone spots the windpipe and lets out a shriek. It's also here that a swarm of guards come rushing out of the doors, rifles pointed at me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Floyd jumps in front. "This dude came after him first! He was defending himself!"

"That's no excuse to kill him!" one guard yells. "Now move out of the way."

Floyd's about to yell a response but I tap him on the shoulder. "It's fine. I don't mind. Just means isolation, which I'm used to anyway. Besides, I've had my fill." I say this next part loud enough to make the guards tremble: "Maybe next time that a**hole of a chef won't burn my f***ing breakfast _and_ my f***ing dinner."

Realizing he's not going to win, Floyd nods and lets the guards swarm me.

_You better keep your damn word of putting in a good word for me with your boss lady, Lawton._

_I just saved your f***ing life. I don't want to have to come after you._

I'm dragged to the showers and forced to clean the blood off of my body, but I don't remove my mask, even though they make me change jumpsuits. They might be hauling me to isolation, but if they know what's good for them, they won't force me to take the mask off. That's _my _shit, bro, and you keep your hands off of me unless you want an ass-whooping so bad you won't be able to walk again. Muscle-Boy should know - I ate his face off.

They lock me in a cell with three solid walls and a solid door, and the only light is from a tiny little lightbulb up at the top of the room and a bed up against one of the walls... and a toilet and sink against on the other side. The toilet smells. The bed's plain and there are no sheets. There isn't even a pillowcase on the pillow. Obviously it's to discourage suicide attempts. Pointless towards me. It's damn cold in here anyway, and they won't give me a f***ing blanket? Cowards.

I lie down on the bed, place my hands behind my head and just grin to myself, my jaws hinged back up under my mask.

_B*tch had it coming anyway._


	5. Chapter 5

**Y'all really seem to like this story; I'd say I'm with you except this is giving me nightmares, hahaha. Well regardless of those, I won't disappoint. Let's go.**

* * *

Solitary confinement typically means that I don't get to go out into the yard, and I don't mind it. But I do get bored in the cell pretty quickly. And they keep burning my breakfast. I've actually had to threaten the guards to get it right before I turn _them_ into my breakfast... but do they listen? Nope. Apparently they've forgotten about that.

I'm lying on the bed during one pretty stormy morning when someone raps on the door and opens the little tray. I get up and walk over to the door - and notice it's my breakfast, decently cooked for once. I'm a bit surprised - and then I'm very quickly suspicious.

"What's this about? Is this drugged or something?" I demand.

"Not drugged, no," the guard replies. "But you'll want your strength. One of our guys wants a word, and doesn't want their face taken off, so he insisted that you eat heartily. But I'll stick around just in case it is drugged."

I shrug and take the tray, sitting on the floor to eat it. It's a good breakfast today, which is unusual because I don't normally get a good breakfast. I traditionally get something I hate. But this time I get a whole load of things - eggs, toast, bacon, ham, sausage, milk...

Reluctantly I eat, a little confused. The food tastes good, and so does the milk. It makes a difference, what a diet of raw meat does for you, so I eat the whole plate to make the guard happy.

I finish, pass the plate back and sit back on the bed. I wait there for several minutes to see if I've been drugged, and thankfully, I'm good. I don't pass out or get sleepy or anything, which is nice because I want my senses at the ready. If someone wants me to be full because they don't want their face ripped off, they've got a little bit of a problem.

_It won't matter if I'm hungry or not - if I want to take that face off, then I'll take it off._

_It just means I won't eat it._

The guards rap on the door, and I stick my hands out and let them cuff me. They push the door open and grab my hands and we walk down a series of long, gray, dimly lit hallways. I don't know what to expect, so all of my senses are on high alert. The guards are calmly walking, like they know something I don't, so I'm just waiting and walking quietly - and scouting out places to escape, while I'm at it.

We stop at a thick, heavily guarded door. Two of the guards step forward, slide keycards into little slots on the side, and step back. I watch as the door gradually undoes all of its security features and swings open with a mighty groan. When it's open all the way they attempt to frog-march me into the room; I convince the guards to unhand me with a snarl and they instead just walk me through.

The room I'm in now is a different one, much different than the cells. It's covered in lines of white fabric and little golden lights, and there's a nice-looking table there and some nice-looking chairs. I'm mostly just confused as I stand there and stare at the room. I had no idea this existed here, in a maximum-security prison. What's this frumpy, fancy-ass place doing in a prison of all places? This a high-class restaurant or some shit like that?!

The guards undo my cuffs and let me look around. The door closes behind them and the guards mostly stand around the room while I walk and stare.

A door on the far side opens and I freeze and look at the person coming in. It's _not _who I expect it to be.

It's a woman dressed in a pretty bomb uniform (that's a compliment, thank you), nice earrings and quite the look on her face. She has the appearance of someone who will do whatever it is, no matter how devious it is. She takes a seat in the chair and just looks at me.

_This is boss lady. This is who Lawton mentioned._

_Has to be. Looks like he kept his word._

I just stand there and look at her, examining every single piece of fabric and facial expression. No wonder she wants me to be well-fed before talking to me. If I end up going after her, she'll put up a damn good fight, certainly more than what Muscle-Boy put up.

She opens her mouth. "So. Do you have any notion of who you're looking at?"

I don't say anything. I know who she is, though.

She cocks her head and just looks at me. "What are you, silent? Or do you just not prefer to talk when it's not necessary?"

_I know exactly who this woman is. I remember the other prisoners talking about her. She's more than just 'boss lady'._

"Amanda Waller," I say aloud.

"The one and only," she says confidently. "Word's gotten around about how you tore someone apart because they threatened one of the other prisoners and then came after you."

"You don't say," I mutter sarcastically.

"Usually I'd have sent out an order to kill, seeing as you injured one of the most dangerous criminals out there," Amanda Waller talks as she stands up. "However, after considering your actions have kept Floyd Lawton from meeting an unfortunate end, I've had a bit of a thought."

I just look at her and turn my head sideways so that I'm looking at her dead in the eye.

"But first things first: tell me why you're in here," Amanda Waller says.

_Mistakes were made._

I growl angrily, "You can ask the Bat that question."

She eyes me warily. "What, you don't know what you're in for?"

I snort. "Lady, are you deaf or do your ears work perfectly fine and you just missed that on purpose? You can ask the Bat that question."

Amanda shrugs. "Fine, then. I'll make sure to contact Mr. Wayne then and ask him why you're in here."

_She doesn't realize it, but she's just slipped up. I've got a name to work with now._

_Who do I know that goes by the name Wayne?_

"But that's besides the point. It's clear you don't know why you're here, but there's still a possible use for you," she goes on, twiddling her fingers. "Lately we've been having some difficulty with keeping our squad members in check."

"Squad members?" I play dumb, hoping to hear what I think I'm going to hear.

"I run the Suicide Squad," Amanda says, looking at me again. "I mainly give the directives, but they do call me 'boss lady', since I am in charge of the whole operation. The members are several: George Harkess, better known as Captain Boomerang - he's the only one without special privileges, since he got one of our other guys killed; Floyd Lawton - but you've met him already; Waylon Jones - oh, but you've met him too. You met him on your first day."

"Stupid guards," I growl.

She pays no mind. "Chato Santana, or El Diablo, due to his ability to light himself ablaze - he keeps that pretty under control. Tatsu Yamashiro, or Katana; she's actually a volunteer, one of our guardsmen's wives, so she's not a target; if one of the other prisoners hurts her, they've got hell to pay. And, of course, Harleen Quinzel."

I don't miss a beat. "Harley Quinn. I thought Joker was one of those dudes too. Too crazy, I assume."

"Precisely. Besides, he's broken out - along with Harley Quinn. We don't know where he's at, and better off for it." She now turns to face me head-on. "Due to one of our members dying, we're currently looking for a replacement. After hearing about your metahuman tendencies -"

I cut her off. "I beg your f***ing pardon?" I snap angrily. "You get something straight here, Waller: you might be in charge of the Suicide Squad, in charge of all these criminals with their special powers and shit, with your own ruthlessness and calm but devilish demeanor, but you _don't_ get to call me that name, not unless you want me to eat your face off." The hackles on my neck rise and I feel my jaws crack and rattle beneath my mask. "Last fool who tried that shit on me got his face eaten. Went down like a wuss. Not even trying to defend himself. Garbage."

The guards all point their guns at me as I say this, but Amanda Waller waves them down. One of them insistently keeps his gun up, but she tells him, "No point in trying. If he can take on Killer Croc and win, he sure as hell won't bother to stand down against a guardsman with a gun."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, ma'am," the guard says.

I recognize his voice too. I wheel to face him and snarl, "Well well well. If it isn't Rick Flag. I remember you, buddy. You were there when I was arrested. What did the Bat tell you I was going in for, huh?"

The guard freezes stiff. "That's not your business!"

He doesn't have time to move before I walk over, shove his gun out of the way, grab his throat and pin him to the wall. "Seeing as it was the Bat who attacked me and got me arrested, I think that _is_ my business, Ricky," I say calmly. "So what was it? Or did he just choose not to tell you?"

Rick Flag doesn't answer. I snort and drop him to the ground with a solid jab to the head. "Garbage. The moment you confront them they all turn into little *******s."

Amanda Waller's just staring at me. She clears her throat and says, "Lawton suggested you'd be a good replacement for our master thief Slipknot."

"That's the dude who got himself killed, right?" I ask, thinking hard.

"Yes, that's him," she says. "After witnessing your tactics firsthand - and thank you very much for not killing him - I definitely want you as a member of the Suicide Squad. Mostly as a forceful interrogator, a punisher, even."

Rick Flag stumbles to his feet and says, "Ma'am, how the hell are we going to get a bomb imbedded in his skin?"

"We're not."

_"What?!"_ he yells. "But what if he goes rogue -"

"I'm not worried about him going rogue," Amanda Waller says. "Besides, I doubt he'll even let us place a bomb under his skin. He'll probably kill us first."

I laugh maniacally. "You got that right, lady."

Amanda nods quietly. As the guards cuff me again she says, "You'll be contacted for a mission in due time. For now, keep up the good behavior and please don't rip off any more faces. You'll get to do a lot of that out in the field."

I've got a little grin under my mask as I reply, "With pleasure."

_This is it. Lawton kept his word. I'm getting out of here on the Suicide Squad._

_Wayne... there's only one guy I can think of with that name._

_Bruce Wayne._

_He's the Batman._


	6. Chapter 6

A few days pass since my meeting with Amanda Waller. There's really only one thing on my mind right now, and that's revenge against Bruce Wayne, the man who put me in here. But there are other questions that are making their way into my thoughts - mostly _why_ did he have me sent here of all places? Why was I even arrested at all? What am I supposed to be in for? I don't get it.

Another hearty breakfast again today, but this time I don't touch it. I'm not that stupid; it smelled off. When the guard notices I'm not eating, he offers to take it back, so I let him have it. Few minutes pass before I'm cuffed and walked down to a massive meeting room. I'm a bit shaky, but I'm also on high alert. These guards might be treating me better, but that doesn't mean that I won't come after them if they decide to screw up... and after trying to drug me, they just might have.

They uncuff me and have me sit down in a chair. I notice one of Rick Flag's subordinates standing off to the side, a gun pointed right at my head.

"If you think that's going to save you, you're sadly mistaken," I taunt.

The subordinate stumbles and shakes with my words. "Just - just stay still -"

_"F*** NO YOU'RE NOT!"_

I jump to my feet and wheel around, jaws unhinged, claws out, staring at the man who'd pressed a scalpel to my neck. He's got a little bomb implant in his left hand and the scalpel in his right.

"Mate, get back in the chair," someone else begins.

"Yeah, no," I growl at him. "Put the bomb away before I start ripping!"

Instead the guy with the bomb implant attempts to come at me, to force me to the ground.

_Mistakes were made_.

I grab the arm with the scalpel, wrench it behind him (I hear a loud cracking sound; I think I broke it) and force him onto his stomach. Then I stomp on his head for good measure. Okay, maybe the second and third times were a bit much. His head's bloody; now I think I might have broken his nose. I know I broke his glasses; they're in a crumpled heap below his eyes, lenses and all.

I turn my focus to the guards now, and even as they raise their guns at me, I pick up the little bomb implant and crush it between my fingers. "Not an option. Don't you DARE try it. I'm not drugged and I'm hungry as hell." My jaws crack and rattle beneath my mask. Somebody's forgotten I didn't touch the breakfast, so I make a quick meal of his broken arm. He'll die anyway, stupid piece of crap.

One of the guards looks at the head. "He didn't eat the breakfast?!"

"Nope. Didn't touch it. Probably wasn't hungry."

They're gracious to wait until I'm full and no longer a threat (at least that's what they want to think, hehehe); then I'm cuffed again and dragged to a separate room and locked inside. I look around and notice that there's several people standing behind a curtain. I also notice Amanda Waller standing in the corner. She looks over at me, mouths "Stay silent until I call for you."

_How the hell am I supposed to know when she does that?_

It's like she can read my mind, because no sooner do I think that to myself than she adds, "I've given you a codename, since we don't know yours - it's Beast. That cool?"

_Beast, eh? It works for now._

I nod, and she brushes past the curtain and begins speaking to those on the other side.

"Been a while, hasn't it? Enjoyed your privileges, all of you?"

"You bet." I recognize that voice immediately - that's Floyd. "I'm just grateful I'm not in the hospital or anything. After that goon tried it, he got his lesson learned." There's shifting and then Floyd addresses someone else. "How's that wound of yours, Croc? Healed up?"

"Somewhat," Waylon Jones grunts. "Takes a while to heal over completely, though. I'm not messing with that guy again." He shudders. "Could've killed me if he wanted to. He certainly had the ability to."

"Can't deny that. He tore the bloke from my block straight on up. Heard rumors that he ripped a few faces off in the process, but I don't know if that's true or not." I don't know this one, but it sounds a lot like either Chato Santana or George Harkness. One of the two. Don't know which.

A much cockier voice speaks up now. "So what's the situation now, lady? A new mission for us?"

Amanda Waller's reply is curt. "That and some other additional news," she says. "We've been tasked with extracting a couple of important people from a blockade just outside the city. A group of so-called 'freedom fighters' is currently holding a convoy hostage; said convoy contains important information critical to the city Gotham."

_Gotham!? That's where I was arrested! That's where the Batman roams!_

_She does not realize she messed up. This is the perfect opportunity._

_This is what I needed._

"So you want us to go find this convoy and get the intel?" This voice is much shyer; this has to be El Diablo talking, which makes the cocky guy Captain Boomerang. Makes sense; word on my block is that Diablo's pretty shy and tends to stay out of most fights.

"Precisely."

"Has Katana been told?" Floyd wonders.

Amanda Waller nods. "Colonel Flag's informing her as we speak."

"So what's the other news?" Captain Boomerang asks.

Amanda Waller steps to the side. "Well, since Slipknot's death I've been inclined not to add anybody into the squadron," she says. "However, due to recent events, I've been persuaded to accept one of the more violent criminals into the squadron due to their abilities."

Captain Boomerang whistles and claps his hands. "All right! What punk do we have to deal with now? Just as whiny as Slipknot or...?"

Floyd's trembling as he says, "You didn't."

Amanda nods curtly. "Boys, say hello to Beast."

And upon hearing my codename I growl menacingly and stride out from behind the curtain.

Immediately Killer Croc lets out a yelp and jumps out of his chair, scampering backwards. "That's him! That's him!" he cries, pointing his finger at me. "That's the dude who attacked me!"

Diablo and Boomerang practically fall over in their chairs. Deadshot, however, stands up and sticks out his hand. I accept the gesture and shake it.

"Beast will be alongside you as you go to the convoy," Amanda Waller says. "Due to his penchant for ripping and tearing, as well as his methods of intimidation, if you manage to capture any of the enemy soldiers holding the convoy hostage, he'll do your dirty work."

"That's good, that means none of us have to get our hands dirty," Floyd says. "Welcome aboard, Beast."

I grin wickedly beneath the mask. "Good to be aboard, Deadshot."

"Where's his implant at?" Diablo asks nervously.

"He doesn't have one," Amanda says calmly.

"Wait wait wait wait wait." Boomerang stands up. "You mean to tell me that this motherf***er who has A PENCHANT FOR RIPPING FACES OFF AND EATING THEM is coming along with us and he doesn't have a bomb implant in his neck?!"

"The f***er who tried it became my breakfast," I growl. "And unless you're willing to die, if you try something stupid around me, you'll be lunch."

"So if he goes rogue there's nothing we can do to stop him?! What if he attacks us!?" Boomerang goes for his pistol, but Croc beats him to it.

"Dude, don't," he jumps in between us. "If he can tear off some flesh around my neck, then he'll rip off your head before you can fire a shot. Don't do anything stupid or he'll make good on that threat."

"But that means if he goes rogue we can't stop him!"

"If he does go rogue, it'll be because he's hungry," Amanda Waller cuts in. "I had this discussion with Beast earlier. He won't hurt you if you don't hurt him. Now suit up. The sooner we get you to that convoy, the better off you'll be."

As we all start filing out I stop Floyd. "You kept your word. I appreciate that."

"Mate, you saved my life. I don't forget." Floyd lightly jabs my shoulder.

I snort. "Don't push it."

_This is my chance. If I manage to get away while in Gotham, I can track down the Batman._

_I'll kill him for locking me up._

_I'll kill him._


	7. Chapter 7

We all climb aboard the helicopter taking us to the drop point and fasten ourselves in. I'm on the wing because why the hell not, Diablo's on the far side (I get the impression he's trying to keep away from me); Deadshot's between us as is a woman with a white mask and long black hair - I'm guessing this is Katana - and Croc and Boomerang are on the other side. There are two other choppers as well; those are carrying soldiers.

Soon after we board, the chopper takes off and lifts up into the sky. I watch the prison fade away from ground view and secretly sigh with relief. I'm finally away from that goddamned place. Granted, I'm on the Suicide Squad now, but I'm away from the place. I just have to wait for the right moment to bolt. I mean, I could bolt now, but that'd ruin everything I've planned. Besides, I'm a terrible swimmer.

"So what's he in for, huh?" Boomerang's snappy remark brings me back to reality. "The new guy, Beast. What's he in for?"

"He doesn't know either," Deadshot replies. "Apparently Bats got him too. No clue why; it's not like he would've posed a threat to Beast anyway. I've seen how this man works; when he's after your ass" -he whistles- "you better pray you got enough strength left to run, 'cuz when he's hungry, you're not getting out of there alive."

Boomerang laughs. It's a loud rambunctious laugh, and I don't like it. I don't let on that I don't like it, though; there's no real point to doing that, especially when you're surrounded by convicts who've done some really bad stuff. I've already warned them not to tango with me; let's just hope Boomerang takes the hint and pisses off.

"D'you remember anything from your arrest?" That's Killer Croc talking. "Beast?"

"I heard you," I reply. "And the answer is no, I don't. Aside from getting jumped by Bats - which I'm assuming is another moniker for the Batman - and getting thrown into the back of a police transport van, I don't remember jack." I snort. "I sure as hell _want_ to know, though. I mainly want to know what the hell Bats has against me. Didn't do anything to hurt him."

Killer Croc shrugs. "Odd. Usually they talk about what criminals are in for, the police, but they didn't bother telling you?"

"Either that or the Batman made them shut up," I say, still staring out the window.

Katana now speaks up. Her voice is light and airy, like she doesn't have a care in the world. "Why did Waller call you 'Beast'? What's your special power?"

She sounds suspicious, so I look over at her and remark calmly, "You're better off not knowing." My jaws crack menacingly underneath my mask. They're raring to go, especially after that doctor's arm for breakfast.

Deadshot explains to her quietly, "He'll eat your face off if you make him angry. I've seen it, and Croc's gotten a taste of it."

"Huh?"

"The guards threw him to Croc when he ripped several others apart. Tore off a chunk from his neck. It's just finished healing up, but Croc already knows not to mess with this dude."

Katana winces and leans back against the seat.

"So how'd you get in here? The Batman?" I ask, curious.

Almost _everyone_ nods yes. "Dude learned our strengths and weaknesses and delivered us up to that place on a silver platter," Diablo murmurs quietly. "We all put up a good fight, but he just kept... I don't know. I don't want to go into it."

I lean back against the seat and stare back out the window. The waves have vanished from sight, and we're mostly surrounded by clouds. The other choppers have gone up ahead to ensure a safe arrival, which explains why I can't see them. I sigh quietly and let my mind drift for a moment.

_Gotham. We were all caught in Gotham._

_Why do I not remember anything else about my arrest?_

_Why _WAS_ I arrested in the first place?_

_Where's Bruce Wayne's crib? Second I find him..._

"Hey, Beast, you remember anything at all before you were locked up?" That's Boomerang, and he sounds like he's trying to taunt me.

I just growl and don't answer.

"Don't push it, mate," Croc says quietly. "He's not happy. I think you've made him mad. I'm not sure."

I just don't say anything still. I stay perfectly silent, one of the few traits that's gotten me up to this point. I have to figure out how I'm going to slip away and confront the Batman on his turf for a second time.

"Uh oh." That's Diablo, and he's looking out the window.

We all look out the window and notice that the other three choppers have made their appearance again, and ours lowers down to the ground and we all spill out. The other choppers have their own militia members out in front of them, and as we stare at them, Colonel Flag walks up to us.

"You lot ready?" he asks. "Follow me."

"What are we dealing with?" Katana asks as we all start walking.

"The convoy in question - the vans have been flipped and the data's still stuck inside the main vehicle," Flag replies. "What we're looking for are several people - they'll also be in garb like mine - and one of them will be in a suit and have a briefcase attached to his wrist. That's part of the data we need."

"Where's the rest of it?" Croc asks.

"Trapped inside the truck. So we'll need some muscles to take it on. Deadshot, Katana, your job is helping us hold off the mercenaries guarding the convoy. Boomerang, your job too. Diablo, distractions - if we can distract those goons, we'll stand a better chance. Croc, Beast, you're getting the guys."

Croc eyeballs me. "I'll take the men. You get the data."

I nod. "If it hits the fan, I'm going to go into feeding mode and rip a**holes apart."

"Warn us if you're gonna do that, okay?" Deadshot says.

"Can do."

Colonel Flag wheels over and slaps me across the face. "You are _not_ ripping anybody apart. You hear me?!"

_Mistakes were made_.

My claws come out and I slash his face, leaving three trails of blood dripping down. The cuts are light, so he doesn't have to worry about bleeding out, but it's still a very strong warning. "Shut the f*** up before I make it worse," I growl at him. "I'm already in a bad mood due to your guys trying to plant a bomb on me. Make it worse and I'll rip your face off."

"Don't, don't, don't," Deadshot quickly steps in front of Colonel Flag, stopping him from retaliating. "Trust me, when he says that, he means it. I've seen how he operates, and he'll kill you if you keep pushing him like this."

"That wouldn't be a problem if he had a bomb implant, but I don't see one," Flag snaps.

"Because the scientist who tried to put one in became my breakfast," I snarl angrily. "Now are we doing this or am I getting an early lunch?!"

Quickly Croc pulls me away, while Deadshot and the other go with Flag. "Pisses me off too," he mutters. "Still, the bomb restrains me pretty good. You?"

"I don't have one," I mutter back as we continue towards our preparation point. "As I said, I killed the motherf***er who tried planting one on me. He was breakfast."

"I see."

We pull up behind some rubble and pause to survey the surroundings. The convoy in question is an armored truck with two more smaller cars around it. Those cars have the goons in them, and they've got weapons pointed around towards everything - but the treeline, of course. The people and the data in question must be in the truck. Which means we have to get inside it in order to reach them.

"If we go back behind, while they're shooting out front we could sneak in from the back," I murmur.

"I see you. Let's go that direction when Chato starts the distraction."

A few minutes pass. Then, without warning, a tongue of flame leaps up in front of the truck and the cars.

"That's Chato! Let's go!"

_Game time!_


	8. Chapter 8

Croc and I rush for the treeline and hide back there as the squad and the insurgents start playing dodgeball - well, with guns instead of foam balls (but you get the jist). He moves first and I cover him; we both get to wrench off the door and chuck it behind us.

We're greeted with a nice little surprise - one of the insurgents is inside the car and immediately opens fire on us. Croc distracts him by punching at the wall, allowing me to jump into the back and bite the insurgent around the throat before ripping out his windpipe. "Go, go, go!" I start ushering the petrified people out of the truck and back behind Killer Croc, who covers them as they scamper off into the woods.

More tongues of flame leap up as Diablo continues the distraction. Deadshot, Katana, Flag and the other dudes are peppering the place with gunfire and kindly avoiding Croc and myself with their shots.

The last guy is hiding in the back. He's got a suit on and a briefcase locked to his arm. There's just one problem -

"This dude's dead!" I yell to Croc.

"Then get his briefcase and the other data! I'll cover you!" Croc turns towards the other insurgents who are running full-speed at him and immediately starts going to town on them, bashing their skulls and tearing at their limbs and torsos.

I grab the briefcase handle and pull on it hard, breaking the chain it's attached to, and set it aside. I turn to the console in the back and start to eject the data files in it.

Then I spot something interesting: "Heathen?" I say to myself.

I tap a few buttons but nothing comes up. Now I want this file too, even if it's just me who wants to look at it. I grab at the console and jerk hard, causing it to fall over and smash open. I grab as many files as I can, especially the one labeled "Heathen", stuff them in the briefcase, and then grab it and yell to Croc,

"Let's go, tough boy!"

Croc throws off the last couple of guys, helps me get out of the truck, and we both bolt for the treeline. Behind us, I hear Deadshot open fire on something; the truck immediately lights up ablaze.

We turn around and look at the damage. "I think he went for the fuel line," Croc remarks. "So what are we talking?"

"I just grabbed the briefcase and as many files as I could possibly fit into this freaking thing," I reply. "Other guy was dead, so you'll have to speak with the survivors to find out what the hell they were carrying."

* * *

We haven't gone back to Belle Reve yet, which is good because I don't want to go back yet. I've just had my first taste of freedom, and I sure want to enjoy it.

We're currently sitting over by one of the choppers. Boomerang and Croc are standing by the carrier, Katana's off debriefing with Flag, and Diablo's next to me while Deadshot gets permission to look at some of the files.

"Wonder how the other guy died," Diablo remarks.

"I bet Beast killed him," Boomerang attempts to throw shade on me, but I just look at him and I growl menacingly.

_He's really pushing it. If he keeps this up, I'm going to eat his face off. I don't care about the consequences. Cocky son of a b*tch._

"Dude was already dead when we found him." Croc thankfully comes to the rescue, noticing my irritation. "Think he might have taken his own life. That or the insurgent killed him. One of the two. Don't know which. Do know it wasn't us."

Boomerang snorts. "You sure about that?"

"Don't push it," Croc advises. "Beast is already angry enough, what with Flag talking shit about him. Don't -"

_Oh for f***'s sake._

"I'm a girl, thank you," I snap at them both. "Stop calling me a guy. I'm a f***ing girl."

The boys wince a little. "Sorry," Croc apologizes immediately. "Wasn't sure with that freaky mask of yours."

I nod, acknowledging his uncertainty. "In the future, though, I'd appreciate it if you mentioned other stuff first and left me out of it?"

"Will do."

Deadshot comes walking back over. "We've been given permission to examine some of the files out here in the field. Only requirement is that a couple of their guys are with us. Let's see what the world's been up to while we've been incarcerated."

We all stand up and troop over to the makeshift tent containing the guards. One of them is holding a computer; this must have been what was in that briefcase, because he's plugging away at something on it. "Just uploading all the files to this device," he explains, noticing our confused looks. "It's encrypted with the highest levels of security money can buy."

"That explains a lot," Diablo mutters. "So what's on that thing? Can we look?"

The soldier turns the computer around so we can have a sneaky-peek at the data we've just saved. Hundreds and hundreds of files, all on prisoners at various facilities and government applications. But it's the 'Heathen' file I'm looking for. I'm dead curious about that one in particular.

_It might hold something on me. If it does, then I want to know about it. _

Deadshot notices the 'Heathen' file and asks for the soldier to select it. The soldier's hesitant, but then I pipe up, admit that I want a look too. The soldier gives in and clicks it, and we all get the shock of our lives:

It's not a prisoner file. There's an image of _me_ on it, and it's stating several facts that I've never seen before. Government experiment... Wayne Manor... bodyguard... no memory...

* * *

"Beast? Hey, Beast, you okay?"

I shake my head. I realize I'm on the ground and Deadshot and Diablo are standing next to me. "You okay?" Deadshot repeats.

"Where's the file?!" I demand immediately.

"The soldier was going to delete it," Diablo begins.

"Get me that f***ing laptop. _Now_," I order. "There's something about me. I want to know."

Deadshot nods. "Hey mate, don't do anything yet! Beast wants to read it!"

Diablo pulls me to my feet, and I sit down on the chopper's edge. The soldier passes the computer to me, and I get to read the 'Heathen' file.

There's an image of me on it, one without my mask, revealing my grotesque jaw shape. There's also a line of information as well, so I immediately start reading it:

_Subject: 5'3'', 125 lb. female. Moniker: Heathen._

_Heathen was created as part of an experiment by Wayne Industries. The owner, Bruce Wayne, after suffering an attack from several goons under the criminal Joker's control, sought to create a bodyguard loyal only to him and with only memories of him. So far, the only pieces of information that have been implanted are of Bruce Wayne, Wayne Manor and the legendary Batman's hiding place, just in case of an emergency._

_Heathen escaped Wayne Industries' lab shortly before memory became active. Located by Batman at approximately 2300 hours_ **(author's note: that's 11:00pm)**._ Attempted to be subdued quietly, but grew extremely violent and attempted to murder Batman. Heathen has been locked up at the maximum security sanitarium Belle Reve until she can be brought under control._

_Heathen has the power to maul and kill based on a select series of genes implanted by Wayne Industries: aside from a pair of mutant jowls, Heathen contains claws within her fingertips and extreme loyalty to whoever has control based on memory._

_Heathen must not be allowed to roam alone or have her memory activated while alone. If alone, then there is much risk of user being killed._

_Heathen's current mission is bodyguard and protector of Bruce Wayne._


	9. Chapter 9

**Been a while since I posted a chapter; I blame not having enough time on my hands to write. I hope everybody's still enjoying this story; I know I certainly am (oh who am I kidding? I had a nightmare about it last night, ha ha!) If that's the case, then favorite it, review it, keep reading it, whatever it is you do.**

**Aight, enough of that. Let's go.**

* * *

I just sit there, stunned. I don't have any words. I don't believe it. I don't understand it. I was supposed to be Bruce Wayne's _bodyguard?!_ What the hell is this witchcraft?! Why is this the case?! I have so many questions!

"You okay, Beast?" Deadshot asks.

It takes me a few minutes to respond. I look at him and I tell him, "I'm not supposed to be your colleague. I'm supposed to be your _enemy_."

"You're what?! You're talking crazy-talk!" Boomerang shouts.

"I swear to god I'm not," I say. "This - this literally says - I'm supposed to - I can't..." I trail off, drop the computer and drop to the ground. I'm so shocked I don't even have any words for myself, any thoughts or anything.

_I'm supposed to be the bodyguard of the guy who got me arrested._

I crumple into the fetal position and just struggle to pull my mind back together. I can't believe this is happening to me. I just can't believe this is actually the truth, the real truth of my existence. I'm supposed to be the protector and accomplice _of the man who tried to kill me!_

"Oh gods, dude, I'm so sorry," Deadshot follows me to the ground and squeezes my shoulder. "D'you need a minute?"

"Ten. Twenty. I don't know," I reply shakily. "I just - I just need to think."

Deadshot nods. "We'll leave you alone, mate," he says quietly. "Though let's be fair, you're still Beast to us, dude. Nothing's gonna change that. You're still Beast to us."

He gets up and walks away to speak with the other squad members (and probably to contact Amanda Waller and tell her what they've discovered). I know now, immediately, that I have no choice.

I sit up.

_I was created by Wayne Industries at Bruce Wayne's command. I was supposed to be given artificial memories of him, triggered that night.  
_

_But somehow I broke out of the confinement at Wayne Industries. I don't remember this because I had no memory when I did it.  
_

_It triggered while I was outside, trying to flee._

_And as a result, my first memory is of him attacking me for no reason at all._

_That's why I don't remember anything about why I was arrested._

_Because I literally didn't know._

I stand up, still somewhat shell-shocked. But slowly, very slowly, a plan is forming in my head.

_I've got to go rogue. I've got to go rogue and I've got to confront the Batman alone, without all his technological prowess, with no help from anybody._

_I've got to make him pay for making me go through that hell._

_And then I've got to disappear off the map. For good. Go where nobody can find me._

I look towards the other members of the Suicide Squad. I look towards the other members of the militia. They don't seem to notice me. I look at myself in the helicopter's reflection. I know what I need to do. I've got to go, now, while they're all distracted. The second they notice me leaving, they'll make me stay. There's no way in hell I can let them know now.

I turn towards the treeline and start walking. My senses will take me back to Wayne Manor, Wayne Manor and Wayne Industries. But most particularly Wayne Manor. I'm going to find that son of a b*tch and I'm going to make him pay for creating me and then abandoning me to Belle Reve.

"Beast, you okay, man?"

That's Diablo running after me. I turn to look at him, very slow, and I say quietly, "Diablo, tell boss lady that her attempt to keep me under control has failed. And if she tries to tell the Batman, or Bruce Wayne as I'm officially calling him now, _she_ will face me and she will lose. I've had it with all these secrets being hidden from me. I know the truth about myself now."

Diablo looks at me curiously. Then he realizes what I mean. "I understand completely," he says slowly. "I lost control myself, once. Killed my family and my friends with my powers of the flame. I swore I'd never use it again, and let them take me to Belle Reve. But your... your situation's a lot different than mine." He pauses. "What do you intend to do?"

"Punish Bruce Wayne," I reply. "And then I plan on disappearing. For good. Where nobody, not even the Suicide Squad, can find me. I'm better off alone."

"I see," Diablo murmurs. "I'll inform the others that you're going on a hunt. If you're not back in a few hours, we'll take off for Belle Reve without you."

"Good."

I continue onwards into the forest, thinking hard about my current situation. I'm so heated right now...

I've got to find Wayne Manor. No, more importantly, I've got to find the Batman's lair - the Batcave, that's what it's called. If I can get in there and steal some of his stuff, I'll be set to go. If I can punish him in the meantime... that'll be nice too.

But first things first: I've got to eat something. I'm hungry.

I spot a deer running through the woods. I grab it and break its neck, rip away the fur and start munching on bones and flesh. I mean, it's a deer, so of course it's gonna be furry, but that doesn't mean I necessarily _like_ the taste of fur. Doesn't taste that great anyway. Meh. Whatever.

Once the bones and muscles are clean from the deer's gut (no I don't touch the organs) I continue on my path. I don't know where precisely Wayne Manor is, but I do know that I can find it. If I can find my way out of Belle Reve, I can sure as hell find Wayne Manor. Bruce Wayne's going to regret tangoing with the Beast.

_Yes. You're gonna remain the Beast. Not Heathen. The Beast._

_And Bruce Wayne will know that you're the Beast when you're done with him._

I can only imagine what Colonel Flag's temper tantrum is gonna be once he finds out that I've gone. But he'll soon know I won't be coming back. I won't _ever_ be coming back. Once I've found Bruce Wayne... once I've found him...

_It's over._

_The end is coming._

* * *

I lose track of time as I walk through the forest. I know what I'm looking for, and I don't need to know where he is at the moment, but I do need to know where he lives. If I can find Wayne Manor...

I notice a couple of tall spires in the setting sun, spires that tower over the surrounding trees. Are they from a church or is that... it's the manor. I've had a genius stroke of luck. I've found Wayne Manor... I hope.

I break into a run and hurry towards the spires. As they get closer there's a huge flood of light, and I pause to take it all in. It's Wayne Manor all right. Those spires host windows and archways of buildings, all made out of a nice shade of brick. It's a rather huge place, and I don't really have to worry _too_ much about security. Bruce Wayne might be a picky chap when it comes to security, but if my intuition is right, it's guarded solely by his old butler.

Quietly I creep up to a window and check around for security. I don't see any sign of a window lock or a camera around, so I crack the window open with a couple claws and climb inside.

The room I'm in is a bit of a grandiose room. It's not the official office, but it's more of a living room type. There's a fireplace at one end with a sofa nearby; several packed bookcases and a grandfather clock; more chairs and couches and lots of family portraits. Bruce Wayne must've been a lonely boy.

_DUH. His parents were killed. Of COURSE he was a lonely boy._

Now that I'm inside the manor, I've got to think about how to confront him, where to do it. If I do it up here, he won't have all his gear, true... but if I find his Batcave, then I'll have access to all his glorious little goodies. I'm more obliged to rip his face off up here.

The prisoner's words come flying back into my head. "If anybody _does_ manage to find it without him noticing and steal some shit, then man... he'd be the official MAN."

_Well with that in consideration, let's hunt for the Batcave._

_I could stand some toys to play with, anyway. I'm getting kinda bored of just face and claws._

I hear footsteps and push up against the wall next to the door. The door's wide open, so I don't have to worry about not seeing anything.

Seconds later, Alfred Pennyworth walks in.

_So the old butler's still here, is he? Can't let him know I'm here. If he spots me then this whole thing goes up in smoke, and Bruce Wayne will know I'm here._

"Oh who's left that window open?" Alfred mutters as he walks over to my entrance point.

With him distracted, I slip out of the room.

_The hunt for the Batcave is ON._


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi y'all. A lot of stuff's been going down lately, for lack of a better term. So let's distract ourselves with another chapter, shall we?**

* * *

I duck into a nearby closet and wait to see if Alfred's going to come back out. He doesn't, so I assume he's still inside. Good. It means I can just wait and hunt when he's not around.

I've got to think logically. The Batcave's supposed to be underground; that's the impression I've gotten from the other prisoners talking about it. It's underground and there's a hidden way to get in, supposedly through the manor. How specifically nobody knows. The other thing they don't know is just _what_'s in the Batcave. I know they were talking about bat-shaped boomerangs and bat boats and bat cars and that sort of stuff, but what else is up for grabs? More importantly, does _Alfred_ know the way in?

_It's a long shot, but if it's necessary, I'll kidnap Alfred and force him to talk._

_That'll probably end up being a last resort method, though. I don't want him to alert my prey that I'm inside the manor. I've got to play this cool._

I hear Alfred exit the room and risk a look out of the closet. He's walking back upstairs, probably to check something else. That's good - he'll be out of my way. Quietly I walk around the manor's first floor; I don't dare risk following Alfred. There's a nice little kitchen and dining room setup, as well as a drawing room and several other rooms - two of which have a grandfather clock in it and one of those two also containing a desk and a piano.

I stop in that room and look around. This _has_ to be where the Batcave's secret entrance is located. _Has _to be. If it isn't, I'll eat my mask.

I look around the room and spot the grandfather clock, fireplace - with no fire - _and_ the piano over in one specific corner. It's too suspicious. Three objects in one corner? Yeah, _nope_. That warrants an investigation.

I walk over to the piano, quietly now so that I don't disturb Alfred's business upstairs. I have to move quickly. I don't know when Bruce Wayne is supposed to be home; he's not home right now, which is good news for me, but if he gets home and I'm not ready, I'm in so much trouble I won't even begin to comprehend it. I've got to be ready. I don't even _want_ to imagine what'll happen if he gets home and I'm not ready to strike.

I run my hands over the piano keys, not pushing down so I don't make any noise. There's no music, so it seems like nothing is wrong, but I'm not so easily fooled. This could be the way in. Or it could be the grandfather clock in the corner. Or maybe, just maybe, there's a secret route in the fireplace. All of these are possible routes to get at him, but I'm a bit uneasy on just _how_ this is pulled off. It's time to do some digging.

There's nothing for me with the piano. If it's a set of keys, I certainly don't know the order to push them in, and I'm certainly not going to alert Alfred to my presence by playing the piano. I check the fireplace; nothing looks out of the ordinary except the floor... the grate's not attached to the floor, so that tells me it slides away somehow. It also probably slides back into place when the door's been ordered to shut. Not surprised. I'd drag it out of place, but that would give me away, so that's out of the question.

I turn my attention to the grandfather clock and examine its workings. Looks like a regular old grandfather clock, honestly... wait a second. It's not ticking. Is it broken? Then I take a closer look at the face and pull away the part covering the clock's gears and mechanisms.

_Just as I thought._

There are several cords running down from the back of the clock and into the wall. Looks like I've found the trigger to open the door; that explains why it wasn't ticking. Now I've got to figure out how to get the door open.

I replace everything on the clock to make sure it looks inconspicuous. I've got to keep my cover silent. There must be a way to open this damned entrance into the Batcave... maybe the desk holds a clue or two.

Quietly I walk over to the desk and rifle through it, searching for some sort of code. I don't find much aside from bills and pens, inkwells and other various memorabilia. Then I find something buried beneath a stack in the lower drawer: a sheet of paper with several words written on it.

_The time of your parents' deaths is the time you should remember_.

I don't know this, which means only one thing:

"I've got to kidnap Alfred," I mutter to myself. "Either that or force him into staying silent. Something along those lines."

_Oh come on. Surely the Batman's not __THAT stupid._

I pause for a brief second. Something's coming back to me... on that government file it stated that I was programmed with memories of Bruce Wayne. Maybe... just maybe... I already know the answer to this? It's possible. I mean - I'm not positive myself, if I'm real. But it's worth a short.

I start looking around at the walls. Hanging on them are mainly portraits, but there is a picture over by the piano that's not. I tidy up the desk, make it look nice and clean, before I walk back over to the piano and look at the picture behind it. It's a newspaper article with a picture of - no doubt - Thomas Wayne and his beloved wife, and that'll be a young Bruce Wayne at the bottom with them. The headline's talking about their deaths.

"'Thomas Wayne and his wife Martha were shot by a mugger on Thursday at 10:48 pm,'" I read softly so as to keep my cover hidden. "Park Row, home to the...' wait a minute."

I turn back to the clock and very carefully move the hands so they read 10:48.

Immediately there's a soft clicking noise and the fireplace floor slides back, revealing a long tunnel and a ladder.

I grin beneath my mask. "Gotcha."

Quickly I start down the ladder and, partway down, find a button that has written above it "To Close/Open Batcave Entrance, Push". I push the button and watch as the fireplace floor slides back into place above my head.

I crack my neck and continue down the ladder.

_The clock is ticking, Bruce Wayne. Now that I've found your little hidey-hole, it's time for me to take what's mine._

_Including your life._


	11. Chapter 11

**Two chapters in a week? Nice! Let's be real: I got a lot of time on my hands at the moment, so expect to see the rest of this story coming up as time goes on. Also, stay safe, stay healthy.**

**Okay enough sappy stuff. Let's go.**

* * *

I lose track of time as I climb down this damned ladder. This entrance was probably a backup, in case the first one got destroyed or demolished or something along those lines. Granted, this was the first option, but it's the most cleverly hidden. Which is good, because I need to remain out of sight until the time is right. Bruce Wayne won't know what's hit him until after it's hit him.

As I climb, I trigger a motion detector, and next thing I know, the lights are popping on. I pause on the ladder to survey my surroundings.

I'm at the edge of a massive, _MASSIVE_ cavern. At one end is one of the biggest computers I've ever seen, along with racks and racks of suits and gadgets. At the other end is a hangar with a bat-shaped plane and a bat-shaped helicopter. Below that is a dock with a - and I wish I were making this up, I say to myself - a bat-shaped motorcycle and a bat-shaped car. There's also a giant tank-like vehicle which I don't know what it's called; the prisoners never talked about it. Probably for good reason, since it's a _tank_ of all things.

I jump from my position on the ladder, do a nice little flip in the air and land on my feet at the base of it all. It's here that I notice the _dock_. Yes, this man's got a f***ing _DOCK_, of all things, with a bat-shaped boat, leading straight out to the Gotham river! Oh my gods, I'm a kid in a candy store!

"Looks like I'm the official _man_," I mutter to myself, remembering the prisoner's words.

I go to look around the cave, but the place is so massive I just have to stop dead-center to take it all in. This was hiding beneath Wayne Manor the whole time and I, a fool supposed to have no memory of the place, found it first f***ing try. I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. I've gotten into Bruce Wayne's little cave and without raising any suspicions at all.

The first thing I do is I go have a look at all the bat-like suits. There's one for space. There's one for underwater. There's one for everyday wear. There's a quick-change one for emergencies. There's one for - I'm assuming a disco since it looks so garish, and next to it is one for a black-tie event. There's so many batsuits that I stop counting them. I'm just so astonished I can't believe it. This man's got a suit for every single occasion! _Damn_, he must be _rolling_!

_So he won't miss anything if I take one._

After browsing for a few minutes, I select a suit that has a taste of neon in the pants (some form of red-gray-black camouflage) and put it on. I rip off the bat-mask and keep my own. I pause to look in a mirror.

_Man I look sweet. I'm a boss looking like this. Let's go.  
_

I turn to the gadgets next. They're all lined up against a wall. I notice that there aren't any guns; but of course there wouldn't be. His motives are just to incapacitate and leave us to the wolves at Belle Reve, not to kill. There's a grappling hook, a bolas (that's a device that wraps around people's legs when fired), a computer-like gadget, a tranquilizer gun, those bat-shaped boomerangs (they're all over the bloody rack), a taser, numerous gels, grenades, mines... I could go on and on. As I said, gazing around at all of this makes me feel like a kid in a candy store.

_Let's take some of these nice little goodies. He won't miss them. He can easily make more._

_Now what's the most precious? What little curiosities can I claim?_

_Well, hang on, let's be real: how am I going to carry all of this?_

I grab a black utility belt and wrap it snugly around my waist. Now it's time to decide what I'll take. I immediately grab the grappling hook; that'll be nice, and I eyeball the bolas but don't grab it. I take the computer-like gadget and the tranquilizer gun (I can easily modify this so it shoots real bullets instead of those pansy little darts), some of those bat-shaped boomerangs because why the hell not...

"Explosive gel," I murmur, examining one of the gel containers. "Could come in handy." I stuff it into a pouch.

There's an EMP gun - I overheard the prisoners talking about this one with a venomous passion - so I bag that too. I also bag a disruptor, some smoke grenades, a laser, a few extra-strength lockpicks, and... some device used to breathe underwater or in low oxygen environments (or at least that's what it says on the explainer card). _Then_ I grab the bolas and look at it. It looks normal, but then I spot the electric panels and realize this is going to deliver a very bad shock to anybody who gets wrapped up in it. Perfect for the attack I'm planning, so I take them too.

I pack a couple of anesthetic darts into the tranq gun and lock and load it. My plan is coming together very well.

Then I turn my attention to the computer. I've got to check if he's got anything on me. If he does, then it won't take him long to come after me, and that I can't have happening. I've also got to find the keys to all of his beloved vehicles so I can take one and then get rid of the others, delay him even more.

I tap into the computer and when it asks for a password, I take a quick look around. It's only three characters, so I guess 'Bat' and it works like a charm. Good, that was the easy part. I find the search bar and type 'Heathen', the codename they use for me. My file comes up immediately, as do several others.

I locate the trash bin, click on the file and drain it of information, drag it over to the bin and let go. The file's dumped. I search for any more evidence of me, and quickly wipe those and move them to the trash bin too. Then I go to the trash can and open it; seeing all the wiped files in there, I hit delete, and when it asks me if I want to delete them permanently, I click 'yes' and watch as the bin empties itself. Good, I'm out of sight, out of mind.

Then I check out his security systems and grin. Because I used one of his entrances, it assumed I was him or Alfred and didn't bother checking further. Kinda stupid, but when you use someone's own shit against them, you've got to be ready for anything... which, assuming the system didn't alert him to my presence, means I'm in the clear as he's still - if you'll pardon a terrible pun - blind as a bat **(author's note: yes, I know bats aren't blind. It's an expression from the old days that nobody uses anymore.) **I still clear it of anybody entering and exiting within the past few minutes, just in case it did somehow trigger it.

With all trace of my identity erased, I quickly look around for the keys to the vehicles. They're all stored in a single compartment at the computer desk, so I consider myself lucky and take all of them, hiding them within a pouch on the belt. Now which vehicle do I want to take?

If I take the bat-car, he'll probably track me with it. If I take the helicopter or the plane, I'll attract unwanted attention. If I take the boat, it means I can head out to open sea and far away from here. If I take the motorcycle, he might end up following me in the car or something (even though I have the key).

_Looks like I'm taking the boat. Much as I hate the sea and much as I'm a terrible swimmer, this is probably my best option._

_I can easily dump it at another dock anyway._

I hear flapping noises and look up to see a colony of bats flying around up on the ceiling. I remember that on the gadget rack there was a device used to call bats to him, so I quickly go back and take that. I hide that in a place where I know he'll step and call the bats to him on 'accident'. I walk over to the boat, pop it open, search for some trackers; finding them, I rip them out of the system and lock it back up. I look around for a place to hide, and notice one right behind the computer with a sweet little view of the cavern, including all of the entry and exit points. My plan has come together.

From my hiding place, I'll wait for him as he triggers his own device. Then I'll ensnare him with the bolas while he's distracted, send him to the floor with the electroshock function, and then shoot him with the anesthesia darts and knock him cold. Then I'll tie him up and confront him, and lock him completely off from any signs of help for a certain amount of time; that part I'll do while he's out, and I'll confront him once he's awake. When it's time for me to leave, I'll knock him out again (by that I mean I'll finish his life) and take off.

I consider more ways on how to hurt him, and finally settle on trashing the computer, trashing the suits, and trashing his remaining gadgets; this I'll do after the confrontation. I won't bother with his vehicles because oh boy will he want those to come after me... until he realizes I've got all the keys to them.

I snicker to myself.

_And now I play the waiting game._

_It won't be long now, Bruce Wayne. I'm waiting for you._

_And I'm going to kill you._


	12. Chapter 12

I lose track of time as I sit back there in my little hiding spot. I have no idea when Bruce Wayne is supposed to show up; hopefully he arrives soon as I'm starting to get some pretty bad cramps in my legs.

I consider my options. I could spare the man from his shame, just take the tools and leave. It'd be the more humane option.

_No. He ordered your creation. He's got to be punished._

_And you've got to know why you're alive._

_Then you can leave._

I hear the fireplace entrance creak and crack open. My hopes rise briefly, only to be dashed by the old butler coming down that ladder.

"Crud," I mutter to myself. "He'll ruin everything."

Then it occurs to me: when I was initially planning, I was only factoring in Bruce Wayne. What if I involved Alfred Pennyworth somehow, used him as a form of bait to lure Batman down here? It would make sense, honestly. That way it'd make a lot of sense, and I'd be able to get some dirt from Alfred on when I can expect Bruce Wayne to show up. It's worth a shot.

"Probably won't pop him with the bolas' electric shock," I mutter. "I'll just wrap it around him and use a tranquilizer to take him out."

I watch Alfred come down the ladder all nice and slow, which makes sense since he's old. I watch as he steps off the ladder, steps out into the Batcave - and steps on the bat-summoning device.

There's a swarm of bats instantly circling around him, so I quickly throw the bolas and watch it wrap around his legs. I then move in as he's still flailing around with the bats and the bolas, and quickly knock him out with a spare dart. The sedative in the dart takes effect very fast, and I practically have to bend over backwards to catch the falling butler.

I've got him right where I want him.

So I deactivate the bat-summoning device and, seeing that it's only a one-time use, I chuck it into the water by the dock. I'll have to come up with a separate plan for Bruce Wayne, but that's easy enough to do. I've got his butler.

I can't leave Alfred unattended if he's not tied up, despite his old age (and probably his old, weak muscles), so I can't take that risk. Instead I grab a nearby pair of handcuffs, drag him over to a pole that hangs from the plane area, and cuff him around the pole. I also prep a gag from a clean piece of cloth and tie it around him so then I can easily muffle his sounds if I need to. The bolas I leave alone; there's no point in trying to untangle that thing. Besides, there were two bolas up on the gadget bench, so I'll just grab the second one when it's time to mess with Bruce Wayne.

With everything ready, I decide to check Alfred's pockets for any calling devices. I find two embedded up his sleeves and one more on his collar. I shrug, crush them under the heel of my boot, and throw the remains in the water. He won't be needing them any time soon.

I move quietly now so that I'm some distance in front of him, and decide to make a show of cleaning out the pistol and loading it while I wait for him to wake up. It takes about two or three minutes before the sedative wears off and...

"Mmph! Mmph!"

I look over at Alfred, the slide positioned so it's about to slam shut, and a dart back in the chamber. "About time you woke up," I say darkly, closing the weapon up and positioning it in a loaded set.

Alfred's eyes are wide with fear. He looks like he's going to cry. For a moment I feel bad for him; then I remember who he works for.

"Oh don't worry, Pennyworth," I say. "I'm not going to kill you. Not yet, in the very least." I walk over and pull the gag down from his mouth so that he can talk.

"Who - who are you?" he stammers.

"You should ask your employer that question," I reply. "He knows who I am. He ordered my creation."

I stand up and fiddle around with one of those bat boomerangs. "So where's Bruce Wayne?"

"I don't know -"

"Of course you know, Pennyworth," I snarl. He might be scared, but I'm already losing my patience. "You're his butler. He tells you lots of things, doesn't he? Things about Wayne Industries, and about his second life as the Batman, right?" I look at him. "I assume he told you about my creation? Or did he keep his mouth shut on that one?"

Alfred's starting to calm down; I guess he's figured out that he doesn't want to piss me off. "Not much," he admits feebly. "He did say he was getting a new escort or something along those lines."

I grab one of those useless buoys and rip it to shreds with my claws. "Of course he'd call me a bloody escort," I growl. "He wouldn't know. He was the one who locked me up."

Alfred looks at me hard. "Why do I feel like I should know you...?" he asks worriedly.

"Because _I'm_ the alleged escort he was getting." I answer this question while looking him dead in the eye. I walk over to him and kneel down in front of his face. "I'm the one he was supposed to have under his control, as his sidekick or some bullshit like that. But his programming didn't work. I'm not his slave, and I never will be." I stand back up and take a few steps away. "Tell me about the project, if you have knowledge of it."

Alfred nods. "Master Wayne said it was through the Biotech portion of Wayne Industries," he says. "They've got all the technological advances when it comes to the human body. He said that they took a strand of Waylon Jones' - that's Killer Croc -"

"I'm not stupid, Pennyworth, so don't treat me like I am," I interrupt. "Just call them their names and don't specify unless it looks like I haven't heard of them."

"Sorry. They took a strand of Killer Croc's mutation and added it to an unknown subject. This subject was supposed to not remember anything, to be in a complete coma or something along those lines." He pauses, thinks for a moment, and continues, "He also told me that it would be working alongside me, and serve as his role as Gotham's protector when he was incapacitated." He stops. "He told me a while ago that it had gotten out and that he was going to try to stop it from hurting anybody..."

"And?" I press.

"He came back that night covered in scratches and blood," Alfred explains. "I didn't realize it at the time, but he'd been attacked by the subject. He said he'd sent the subject to lockup, but he didn't say where..."

"Belle Reve."

It's the butler's turn to look stunned. "The sanitarium?"

I nod.

"But how would you...?"

I pull back my mask and reveal my grotesque jawline. "I'm the subject he was talking about."

Alfred gulps. He knows he's screwed up. "Don't - don't kill me! I'll tell you whatever you want!"

"Then tell me where the Batman is!" I snap at him angrily.

"He's at Wayne Biotech now!" Alfred replies, sweating. "He's supposed to be back around six!"

"And what time is it now?"

"Quarter to!"

I walk over to him and grab his chin, make him look at me. "You better not be bullshitting me, Alfred Pennyworth, because I've got a meeting with him tonight, and if I find out that you're lying to me..." I let my jaws crack and grind menacingly before I say, "I'll eat your face off. And it won't be a slow death either."

Alfred nods worryingly. "I - I won't - I won't say a word."

"Good, because you sure won't be able to." I stuff the gag back into his mouth. "I'm going to have a good, long talk with Bruce Wayne. And then..."

I decide not to finish the sentence. Then, on a whim, I point the gun back at Alfred and pop another tranquilizer dart into him.

Once again it takes a few seconds for the sedative to take effect: Alfred Pennyworth slumps over, unconscious.

I reload the chamber once again, this time with a more powerful dart (and the third-to-last of what I've got) and return to my hiding place.

_Alfred Pennyworth, you've served your purpose. Now it's time for you to serve my purpose._

_You're the bait for Bruce Wayne._

_I just have to wait... once again I have to exercise my patience._

_But to get the Batman in his own lair..._

_It'll sure as hell be worth it._


	13. Chapter 13

Six rolls around. I'm back in my little hidey-hole again, hidden very carefully by the aged butler. He's out cold again - man, those darts have some strong knockout serum in them if he's been out for a quarter of an hour. It's no matter. He's perfect bait for Bruce Wayne, who should be home any minute unless Alfred's lied to me.

_If he's lied he's going to pay. I've been through too much to stop now._

I bristle from my hiding place. I've elected to move from my previous position behind the computer to a spot over by the docks. Bats won't see me coming until I've already nailed him with a dart. I adjust my aim with the bolas as well as with the silencer. I'm only going to get one shot at this, so I have to make this count.

"Come on, you frickin' rich boy, hurry up before I lose it and eat this man," I mutter grimly to myself.

Then I hear it: the sound of the fireplace sliding back. He's here! My gods, Alfred wasn't bullshitting me! Bruce Wayne is finally here!

I listen to the pitter-patter clank-clank of feet climbing down the ladder. I look up at the ladder and notice him paused around the middle. I look at his slick black suit and patiently combed black hair, note his eyes (they're like little pinpricks). He's clearly confused on why the lights are on. Then he freezes as he's looking around.

"Oh my god! Alfred!"

His voice is dark and masculine, and I hear the urgency suddenly rise as he races down the ladder. He's falling right for it. I can't botch this now. I ready the gun and wait for him to rush over to the butler.

I hear him jump down from the ladder and run towards the butler. He passes my hiding place, and I watch as he kneels down in front of Alfred and starts removing the gag. He takes the butler's pulse (of course, he doesn't realize I wouldn't kill him...) and tries to rouse him. He doesn't notice me as I slowly get up from my hiding place, as I slowly step forward, as I slowly take aim at the back of his neck.

I squeeze the trigger. Out of the gun a tranquilizer dart flies and smacks him right in the back of the neck. The second the gun's done I ready the bolas and the electrical charge, just in case he attacks and the sedative doesn't work.

Batman stops and reaches back at his neck. He pricks his finger on the dart, but doesn't do anything.

_He thinks it's a rock! The great detective thinks a tranq dart is a bloody rock!_

_The great detective - more like -_

_YOU BLITHERING IDIOT!_

He manages to pull the gag off of Alfred, but before he can do anything else, he slumps over.

I've got him right where I want him.

I drag him off of Alfred and throw him to the side. I grab a spare set of rope and cuffs, and quickly handcuff his wrists together as well as tie him up around a separate pole. I wrap the bolas around his ankles and make sure the electrical patches are at weak points. Remembering the hidden pagers I found on the butler, I search for those on the rich boy and find two stuffed up his sleeves and one in his left sock. I crush those and chuck them into the water. Now I just need to wait.

Then, because why not, I walk back over to Alfred and remove the gag. It doesn't take long for the butler to wake up.

The first thing he sees is my face. And then he spots Batman tied up.

"Just don't kill him," he begs. "Please."

"We'll see about that, Pennyworth," I growl. "You've proven very useful to me. If you're lucky I'll let _you_ leave here alive. But we'll see about the Bat."

I stand up and start reloading the gun. I've got one last dart, and with this I intend to make Bruce believe I've shot him dead. Of course, I won't have, but we'll see where my final talk with him takes me. I might just rip his face off to punish him. We'll have to see.

It doesn't take him long to wake up. He looks around for a few seconds and then notices Alfred.

"I would have warned you, master Bruce," Alfred says sadly, "but she threatened to kill me if I did."

"She who?" Batman demands.

I snarl abruptly, forcing him to look at me. "Remember me, Bats?"

Batman looks up at me, but I can tell immediately he's puzzled. "Who are you?" he demands.

"Oh my sainted god. Are you that f***ing stupid? You're supposed to be this great detective and you don't even _remember_ me?" I say. "You know who I am. You're the one who named me!" I pause and grin at him wickedly. "It's me, Bats. _Heathen_'s come home."

I watch as pure shock flies over the rich boy's face. He's stunned. "You're supposed to be at Belle Reve!" he snaps at me. "You're supposed to be locked up-"

"I broke out," I reply simply. "The sanitarium's pretty easy when you make the right moves." My jaws crack and tremble, anticipating fresh meat.

Bruce is growing angry. "You're not -"

"Master Bruce, stop!" Alfred protests.

"This monster used you!" Bruce says sternly to him. "What'd she do to you?!"

"Nothing aside from knocking me out," Alfred replies sadly. "Master Bruce, _please_ don't make her any angrier than she already is. You _know_ what she's capable of!"

Slowly Batman's anger fades away. Concern takes its place. "You didn't say anything, did you?"

"Sang like a canary," I cut Alfred off before he can say anything. "As for all the information on me, it's gone. Permanently. I've wiped all the copies from your precious little computer. Also changed the password too, while I was at it." That's a bluff. I haven't changed the passcode; I want Bruce Wayne nervous.

Now I watch as the concern also fades... but not too much. Bruce then decides to try a different tactic. "What do you want out of me?" he asks, his voice calm.

_Mistakes were made._

"What do I want?" I look at him. I rip my helmet off of my face and stare at him, let him see my grotesque, deformed jaws. The claws slide out from my fingers in anticipation of striking.

_Does this guy THINK I'm THAT stupid!?  
_

_"What do I want?!"_ I erupt. _"I want to know WHY!"_

I lunge forward on impulse and slug Bruce right across the cheek. His head smacks against the pole and I hear Alfred whimpering and begging me not to hurt him. I continue onwards, slugging him after each sentence. _"Why was I created?! Why did you mutate me into this monster!? Why did you send me off to Belle Reve?! Why was I supposed to serve you!?"_

I step back and look at his bloody face - and it is bloody. There are blood drops on his shirt from a split lip and a bloody nose. Bruce looks at me.

"Why do I exist?" I demand angrily. "Either you start talking or I get busy munching on your worthless body!" My jaws flex and tingle, smelling the blood droplets.

Bruce takes a moment to gather his thoughts. Then he says, "You were an experiment."

"I got that much from your useless old scag for a butler! Now give me the real reason or I'll rip your f***ing face off!" I growl. I unsheathe my claws and swipe at his face, leaving three long trail marks of blood.

Bruce takes another moment. "Thomas Wayne's wish."

I stop dead. What the hell is he bringing up his dead father for?!

"It... can't... be," Alfred says slowly. "But - that's impossible!"

"I'm afraid it is," Bruce murmurs, quiet now. "There was a clause in his will that, when I was old enough, I had to follow his instructions and attempt to create a perfect soldier. It was his dream, actually. All the abilities of Killer Croc - that was the subject we elected to mimic - but under the complete hold of Gotham's protectors. It was supposed to be his crowning achievement, but - well, I'll spare you the details.

"What we were attempting to do had never been done before. We knew we couldn't take many risks. Using a live human was a bad idea, so we took Jones' DNA and mixed it with a developing embryo." He pauses; I slug him and it convinces him to keep talking. "It went well. You grew relatively quickly; you had crazy strength, claws and your jawbone mutated to what you have now, but you had no memory. So that's when we decided to create a false memory for you, mainly composed of memories of Gotham and myself. We had everything ready in time for your awakening... and then... it went completely wrong."

"How?" I demand.

He looks up at me. "You broke out of your confinement the day your memory was supposed to unlock. You broke out minutes before it was supposed to happen. You slaughtered the staff at the clinic and escaped into Gotham's streets. I had to track you down before you killed anybody else, but I couldn't do it in my usual getup. I donned the Batsuit and took off after you.

"When I found you, I realized immediately that I had to take you out, fast, or your memory would activate and I'd be in trouble. So I attempted to neutralize you... and it all went so badly wrong..." he trails off, ashamed.

I stand there for a moment, all of these words flooding into my mind. I remember him flying at me in his Batman guise... but the words I heard were a mistake. If he was trying to neutralize me, then why did he accuse me of a robbery?

"Why accuse me of a robbery, then?" I say slowly.

"That was a mistake I realized too late," Bruce replies. "The moment I said those words, I realized I'd screwed up, that I'd made you attack. I hurried to incapacitate you, praying your memory hadn't activated, but... I discovered too late that it had. I realized seconds after the transport truck left to take you to Belle Reve that your memory had activated. Whether it was with those words or before those words, I don't know. But I knew at once I'd messed up. I'm sorry. I tried to prevent it -"

"You couldn't accept responsibility for a mistake you made," I snap at him. I turn around, close to choking up. I'm shaking like a leaf. What is all this? "You had me locked up, hoped they'd kill me, because you couldn't accept responsibility for a mistake! My life is a f***ing _misery_ because of you, and what do you do!? _YOU PIN IT ALL ON ME!_"

I stop talking. I'm shaking so badly.

"I'm sorry." Bruce's so quiet now, his head's bowed low towards the ground. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done all of this, any of this. I take the blame for everything. Don't feel responsible -"

_"WHY NOT?!"_ I scream. _"WHY THE F*** NOT?! YOU DESTROYED MY LIFE, WHATEVER LIFE I HAD!"_

"Because I was the one who chose to create you!" Bruce finally cries. "I was the one who put everything into motion! I was the one who triggered your memory, the one who had you mutated with the genes of Waylon Jones, the one who designed your concept... I was the one who authorized everything." He pauses. "The Grenade Project, as my father called it, was supposed to be his crowning achievement. Instead... it's his biggest failure, and it's my biggest regret."

I look at him, not sure what to say. He just confessed to destroying my life... I ought to destroy his, but I don't know what to do.

Alfred's fallen silent.

"What, then? I'm supposed to be a dead man's version of a perfect soldier?" I say, my mask back over my face. "What sort of sick vision is that? What sort of _sick f***_ decides to create a false life and then destroy it?" I pause. "Why the _f***_ would some sick bastard like Thomas Wayne come up with that?! Why would you even _consider_ following his words when he was attempting to create something that wouldn't even listen to him?!"

Neither person says anything.

"You want to know why?!" I snarl. "Because you just couldn't bear it. You wanted your father to be remembered for something wonderful, something that might have prolonged your city's safety. You might be following your father's orders, but you didn't expect to fail the way you did. I'm your biggest success and your biggest failure, and I'm just about ready to end your miserable life."

"What good would that do?" Bruce Wayne asks quietly.

"Master Bruce -" Alfred begins.

"Shut up, why don't you?!" I snarl at him. "What are you saying, Bats?"

Bruce is still very quiet as he says, "If you kill me, they'll all come after you. Do you realize how much of an impression I have on Gotham? Everyone in the city will come after you if you kill me. The criminals, the police, the citizens... _everyone_. And they'll treat you even worse than what you've gone through at Belle Reve. You've got to run while you can."

"That'll just give you the excuse to hunt me down and destroy my life even further!" I storm a few meters back. "How do I know you're not lying!? How do I know you're not just stalling for backup?!"

"I'm being dead serious!" Batman cries. "If Bane can snap my back into two pieces, if all those criminals can jump me and nearly kill me, if the public knew I was dead - then who knows what they'll do to you!"

I look around at the Batcave, and then look at the computer.

_You know what?! F*** this!_

I lunge at the computer, grab a chair and fling it at the monitors with all of my strength. It hits the biggest monitor and goes crashing to the ground, cracking the screen. The monitor teeters and totters… before also collapsing. And when it goes, the whole system goes with it. Monitors fall. Cables fall. Sparks fly as cords are snapped. The keyboard breaks under the pressure, as does the desk the computer's mounted on. It's all destroyed in a matter of seconds.

Bruce looks up at me. "You'd better go, quickly," he says. "I mean no offense, but there's an emergency signal inside that system you just destroyed. It transmits an alarm to the Gotham police chief, and he'll be here in a few minutes."

"He's not joking," Alfred agrees. "He's the only one who knows of master Bruce's real identity behind the cowl."

I pause. "How long do I have?"

"Five to ten minutes."

I grab two gags and stuff them into their mouths. "Then here's how we'll play this," I say. "I'm gagging you both. And then I'm leaving. For good. Don't ever try to find me."

I start towards the back wall, then pause. Then, unexpectedly, I whirl around and point the pistol at Batman again. His eyes widen with horror, like they're begging me not to hurt him.

I fire the last tranquilizer dart into his neck, and he slumps over within seconds. I walk back over to Alfred.

"Don't worry. I kept my word. I won't end his life." Then I add a few slashes to his arms and legs, and two to his chest for good measure. Might as well make him suffer a little more. I do the same thing to Bruce Wayne... and then, on a whim, I break his legs. That'll leave him out of action for a while.

I then head straight for the bat-shaped boat and climb in. I prepare to leave, and then I look at Alfred again.

"When he wakes up, tell him this," I say. "Don't ever try to find me. Don't even attempt to find me. I'm not returning to Gotham. If he does track me down, I'm killing him, regardless of his pleas and whimpers for mercy. I've got his number and I've got his blood. And if he even _thinks_ of tracking me, he'll need to find some new keys first."

I close the boat's lid and start it up.

It doesn't take me long to realize the controls, and I quickly speed out of the cavern and into the night.

_I didn't kill him. Out of all my promises to end his life..._

_I didn't kill him._

_I should've killed him._

_No. He was right. If I killed him, they'd all come after me. EVERYONE would be hunting me down. And they wouldn't show mercy on me either._

_It was the right move._

_And now he knows not to mess with the Beast._


	14. Chapter 14

_Ten weeks later._

_The city's nickname is the Underworld, or at least this branch's nickname is the Underworld. Surrounded by water, there's no way in or out without going through the central dock. Or at least that's what everyone thinks.  
_

_I dumped the boat at the docks and had it destroyed, and quietly made myself a nice little home here in an abandoned apartment building. Free water to shower and drink, free room and board... it's essentially my home._

_And the food's not too bad either. The Underworld is filled to the brim with drunk a**holes as well as a few criminals and corrupted policemen. There's also a nice little forest sanctuary, so if I'm really desperate then I can go there if I want to. But right now, my focus is on living my life as well as I can, as best as I can._

_Do I miss the Suicide Squad? A little. But I've let Amanda Waller know that if I'm needed for anything, or if they need some form of brute force that Waylon Jones can't provide, I'm available. They'll just need to come pick me up and drop me off when they're done with me. And if they talk to the Batman about where I'm at, I'm slaughtering the lot of them, remote bomb or not.  
_

_Do I miss Gotham? Nope. I'm very glad that I'm not there any more. There's nothing there for me, nothing but awful memories. Besides, that's the Batman's territory, and after the sh*t he's done to me, I want nothing more to do with him.  
_

_It's just me out here in the Underworld, and that I prefer._

_I'm up on top of the tallest building in the Underworld. The gear I've stolen from the Batcave has gotten me very far here in the city; I can hunt and eat for as long as I want and nobody will bother coming after me._

_But I'm not stupid. I know that the corrupted police are trying to figure out who's doing all these gruesome killings, so I know they're trying to find me. I also know they're trying to get the Batman out here to help them. If he's smart, he'll realize that it's me doing all this and that he needs to back off. This is my turf. I will defend it until either I'm dead or he's dead. Whichever comes first. And he knows it'll be his death first. As I told Alfred, I've got his number and I've got his blood.  
_

_I notice the bat-shaped plane flying overhead and look up at it. It's him, all right. I can see him looking down at me. I growl warily as it hovers there... and I watch as it turns around and heads out. Smart decision, Bruce Wayne._

_I turn my head to the sky and let out a brutal, bloodcurdling roar._

_It's good to be the queen._

* * *

**Well, that's the end of that. I hope you enjoyed this little foray into the DC Universe and the Suicide Squad. I know I did. (Maybe now the nightmares will stop, ha ha!)**

**Stay safe, stay healthy, and keep 'er going!**


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